The Strange Case of Dr Knockout and Mr Uppercut
by Dracannia
Summary: After the Terrorcon outbreak, Knockout tests the effects of the mixed substance of dark and synthetic energon on himself, wondering if the results would be different on a healthy body instead of a hybrid that was close to death. The outcome is a new personality with a mind of its own, out looking for the thrill of the kill. [pairings implied, no freaky deakies]
1. Chapter 1

So if you guys are swingin' in from dA, my lazy ass decided to post the first chapter as a teaser. There will be more; I've drawn far too many pictures related to this just for it to be a one-shot. It'll be fun, I promise.

Those of you NOT coming in from dA, check out FrostedIcefire for doodles related all to this. I came up with this six months ago because I thought Hasbro forgot about synthetic energon THEN they came out with Thirst and twisted my plot in good ways and bad. Again, FrostedIcefire. I'm going to draw loads of this, hopefully a lot before I get into college... (Can I just slack off for a few more months please? Have mercy, ma, I can't even drive yet.) Anyway, if you don't feel like it, I've based the Hyde side on the Dark Energon toyline redeco, which suits great for a psychopathic mech of medicine.

Now I'm babbling. Enjoy yourselves.

* * *

Chapter I

.:_Log 251_

_:After the incident with Silas and Breakdown I'm still willing to test the effects of synthetic and dark energon. Because Silas was close to death I assume his transformation into a Terrorcon was influenced by the double dose of both substances. I never expect a human to harbor that much energon at once, so that might have been what killed him off first, allowing the dark energon to revitalize him. I wonder… does the same happen to a perfectly healthy being?_

_:Here goes nothing._

_:End Log 251_:.

Knockout closed out his written log and looked at the syringe of synthetic energon on the console next to him. Next to it was a cube of dark energon. He would have borrowed a drone for this testing but that would have required permission from Shockwave, seeing as he was in charge of the science division. The military power on the _Nemesis _had been cut in half, thanks to the recent epidemic, meaning the cyclops would not give him authorization to use a drone. For all they knew the effects would not change and result in another Terrorcon outbreak. The doctor had no choice but to test it on himself.

Knowing he would think too much on it and back out the moment he decided, he grabbed the syringe, jabbed the needle through his arm, and injected the green fluid into his system. At first he felt as though he went completely numb and hot. Movement no longer felt natural. His internal circuitry was working fine; he just could not feel it. He concluded the synthetic energon was affecting his neural system, making it impossible to touch or feel. Was this how Silas felt when he was laying on the dissection table as he had the substance pumped through his veins?

With an agitated grunt, he leaned over the console for balance. His diagnostics blared at him to go into recharge, and his arms threatened to give out. The heat subsided, if, he thought, that was even real heat, and he could feel stress in every piston of every limb. The doctor looked at the cube near him. If he could at least swallow some of the purple glowing liquid then he would allow himself to shut down. Moving was still difficult. He reached an arm out and felt something pop. If it was important, he would just have to fix it later. Right now the experiment was more important.

Knockout grabbed the cube and gulped down a portion of it before he felt his entire frame freeze. He felt a tug at his spark, strong and inviting, as though Unicron himself was tearing out his soul to join the Well of All Sparks. The tugging ceased, after it tore something from his processor, and he could swear he felt another's presence behind him, but he could not bring himself to look. A chill crisscrossed his body, making him feel as though he turned grayscale and became a corpse already under Unicron's control. Had he? Was his dreaded hypothesis right and he had become a Terrorcon?

His will to live was somehow stronger than whatever malevolent force was trying to sway him. The red mech yelled; both in fright of death, and confidence of survival. Something else was looming over his processor, something like a physical shadow wrapping around him. His vision started to go out of focus. Slowly he felt his consciousness fading, replaced by another being, which felt as though it was him yet not him. A bestial program that had been dormant for far too long, now freed, wanting to kill.

A drone ran into the medical bay, alarmed by the noises. "Sir!" he said. "I heard screaming. Is everything alright?"

Knockout did not respond. He _could_ _not _respond. He tried to move, tried to ask the drone for help, and he could feel as though he did but knew he did not even move a twitch. The animal drive had taken over. It was now in complete control of his body and he could do nothing but feel its movements, hear its thoughts, and speak its words.

"Sir?" the drone murmured, concerned for the ship's only doctor.

The animal smiled. "Yes… Everything fine…" It turned around. "But the doctor's not in right now. At least, not the one you know. May I take a message?"

The Knockout trapped inside his mind screamed and shouted, even tried opening a mental link to the drone to get help or run, but whatever this thing was interfered with the signals. This thing wanted to kill and had found the drone as its target. The creature shut him out, told him to watch.

"But, if you're not Knockout," the drone asked rather calmly, "then who are you?"

"You're not the brightest of drones, are you?" the thing said coldly. Knockout felt his—the animal's—hand fold back to reveal his rotary saw. "NOW COME! LET THE DOCTOR FIX YOU UP!"

Panic flashed across the drone's visor, the doctor had seen, but it could not find the strength to move. The animal that the doctor had become raced forward and pinned the drone to the floor. The poor soldier begged for his life. The beast heard none of it, as it dug the spinning blade into the drone's visor. A messy fountain of energon spring forth and the beast grinned, optics wide in excitement. Knockout tried to stop it, to at least get the saw to freeze, but in vain. The thing jabbed at the drone's body countless times over, hitting every vital point at least three times to conduct a beautiful, gory display of life gushing from the solider.

It seemed too long before the beast was satisfied. It stood back to marvel at its work. The drone was no longer recognizable as a being. Just a messy heap of shredded metal coated with blue, glowing, half-processed energon.

"Quite a mess you made, doctor," the thing mocked. Chuckling, it walked to a mirror, to further anger his trapped ego. Something was different. His colors had physically changed from red to the corresponding colors of synthetic and dark energon: Green and purple. And his optics had become a deep pink, the fade of Knockout's true consciousness.

"My…" the beast purred, turning the doctor's head from side to side. "Isn't this a scientific discovery?"

* * *

The doctor woke up on the floor of his private quarters. For a moment he believed the animal was still in control until he realized his own movements really were _his _own. He touched his fingers together, craned his neck, crossed his limbs, spoke in nonsense; did everything to assure himself that he was himself again. He shot up and dashed to the long wall mirror to get a look at himself. Red was back in season.

"I'm never taking advantage of this hue ever again," he sighed in relief. Green and purple was just too… Constructicon for his taste. He broke ties with those artsy fraggers long ago.

Perhaps it was just a flux, a nighttime vision during recharge, warning to never work on the strange energons again. Or at least not to mix the two. Or perhaps one of the chemicals in the med bay accidentally mixed with his ration again and gave him horrific hallucinations. Whatever the case, it was over, and it was time to start the day. A raid was scheduled and he wanted the medical bay prepared in case Autobots would show up and injure their drones, which was usually the predicated case.

When he entered the bay, Knockout was met by a stench filling the room. It smelled like rusted metal and bad energon with a dash of diesel.

"Dear Primus!" he exclaimed, almost gagging form the odor. "What _is _that?!" He cranked up the air filter to expel the stink but some of it lingered in the air. He followed it to get to the source of the smell and clean it out or dump it or whatever procedure was necessary. It lead to one of his paint cabinets. Was someone playing a sick joke by tainting his paint supply? He opened the door and shards of metal and internal organs fell out to spill across the floor in front of him, getting energon on his pedes. The doctor jumped back and groaned, turning away to get his tank to settle. A dead mech in his closet? But how?!

_It's hilarious that you thought it was a dream _echoed a thought. It was his voice, Knockout's own voice. The beast inside. _I told you, you killed him. But what's one drone to a killing machine?_

Knockout did not answer. He simply walked to a console and opened his written log, leaving one sentence. He would record the rest later, when his mind was more organized.

.:_Log 252_

_:I may have made a mistake…_:.

xXx

Again, FrostedIcefire. Look for the folder that has this title.

[If this chapter somehow popped up in your email inbox, I merely had to change the number in the logs...]


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks, strangers, for taking your time to read this. ;w; I'm not much of a horror writer but I'll do my best.

* * *

Chapter II

.:_Continuing Log 252_

_:The result of my experiment is… I don't know what to call it. It has given me a split personality, so to say. Something sinister. I thought it had only been a dream. Whatever it was, it took over my being and slaughtered a mech. No one important, at least, but he was firepower that we lack._

_:If this personality has killed more, then I do not remember. I only hope the effect wears off as the synthetic and dark energon are being burned in my systems. I dare not take a pill for it. For all I know that thing will take over and spit it back out. I just have to wait and record the events as they play out._

_:End Log 252_:.

The few injured drones behind him shifted in the berths, trying to get comfortable, hindered by wounds and casts. The Autobots had really done a number on them, killing at least fifty more of the Decepticon drone army. The animal inside him said they could have at least saved thirty if he went on the raid. Knockout knew better. If the thing had killed a drone of their own faction inside the ship, who is to say it would not do it again?

Lord Megatron would undoubtedly ask why he had not shown up at the raid and he already had an excuse in mind. It was just a matter of staying in control of his body so the thing inside would not do something rash.

_Are you ashamed of me already? We've only just met! But I do know more about you than you do me… Does that scare you?_

Honestly, not at all. He knew the thing was just a part of him, triggered by the dark and synthetic energon. Within a week it would simply fade away.

"_Knockout!_" The sudden change of voices in his head caught him by surprise until he realized it was actually the gladiator warlord shouting at him through his comm. link. "_Why have you not reported for briefing?_"

He had been so busy tending to the wounded and trying to ignore his second personality's snarky remarks that he forgot about going up to the main deck for mandatory briefing. He did not look forward to it. The thing in his mind would be talking to him the entire time to distract him, he just knew it.

The medic walked out, all the while being bothered by the voice in his head. Some of the things it said seemed as if it were his own thoughts.

_I wonder how badly Starscream fucked up this time. There's no doubt Megatron's going to slag him around the deck as a power show. If you ask me, if he wanted to show true strength, he'd challenge the Predacon. _That's _a beast to conquer! Your hands keep twitching, Knockout, you might want to stop that. Hm… It's strange… I don't have a name. Of course I could take yours but that would be a grammatical nightmare. Such a rare opportunity to name oneself… I'll let you know if I think of anything._

With the persistent chatterbox in his mind, the medic almost passed by the deck. When he walked in, Starscream and Soundwave were already present with Megatron. He expected to see Shockwave but was reminded so benignantly by his alter ego that the one-opticed madmech was still at an off-sire laboratory with his flying beastie. Not that he wanted Shockwave there, but it was nice to see Starscream try to best the scientist and fail. Just to see the Seeker change his proud, upturned wings to a deflated position amused Knockout.

"Good of you to finally join us, doctor," Starscream said poisonously. He was probably glad Shockwave was not around to say anything against his conduct or to judge him.

"I don't see why _you're _smiling, Starscream," Knockout spat back. "You let the Autobots slaughter even more of our troops. They left a nice pile in the incinerator. At least you left me a few good drones I could pick spare parts from."

"Enough," Megatron scowled.

They continued with briefing; what happened, what was gained and lost, what should be done next time. Half of the time Knockout zoned out. Briefings never really concerned him so he never cared unless someone wanted status of the medical bay. As he snoozed he kept waiting for the alter ego to say something. Anything would be better than to listen to Starscream's continuous pettifoggery followed by answering bellows of rage from their lord.

_I wonder if Soundwave finds any of this annoying _was the first thing the animal said since the beginning of the meeting. Knockout smiled to himself, glad to have some form of muffler over Starscream's rantings. _He just stands there. If asked something he just nods or shakes or pulls up something on his face screen. He's under a vow of silence, right? What for? Must have been a terrible experience to leave it doctor-to-patient, but I'd get a cold shoulder. I just know it. Choosing to be quiet is a very personal, intimate things. Would you get comfortable for five seconds? You're doing that thing with your hands again! Are you nervous about something?...Do you need a fix?_

"No!"

Unintentionally he shouted, drawing the other three's attention to him. He had to think. What were they all talking about? Something about postponing the next raid?

"Uh…No," he said slowly, figuring out a way to reasonably make sense of what they assumed was an argument against their military decision. He was a doctor, what did he know about strategizing? "If we wait, it gives the Autobots a chance to acquire more energon. They're probably still stripping from the last mine they took form us. We wait and they become stronger."

"You have a point, Knockout," Megatron ruminated. Starscream looked at the medic with a surprised snarl. Knockout smirked.

_Nice save, doc._

* * *

Briefing was over, and Knockout read a few files on his data pad while walking back to the med bay. All the while, his other ego kept talking.

_As I was saying, you might need another fix of your synthetic-dark injections. The synthetic junk can be addictive, you saw what happened to the Autobot medic; his systems were overflowing with it. He had been taking it either for a week or in large quantities for a few days._

"Just because he fell victim to the drug doesn't mean I will," Knockout murmured, trying to keep his voice low in case others were around to hear him talk to himself. "It was just an experiment and you're the result of it. It'll pump out of my systems eventually, and you'll be gone."

_Not if I can help it, doctor._

"Is that a threat?"

_I supposed it is… An effective one. We'll test and see whose will is stronger. But that's confusing seeing as I _am _you therefore I am your will. I wonder if I can do more than just take over your body._

"Honestly, you're more annoying than Starscream. Do you like the sound of your voice? Sorry, _my_ voice?"

_It's lovely, Knockout._

Before he entered his med bay he heard murmuring within the walls. If an officer like himself was furtive enough, they would catch the drones talking to each other. What was there to talk about when living on this boring ship and worrying about getting your head blown off by an Autobot every time you stepped outside? They had probably found things to do during their rare amounts of free time. Knockout himself used such opportunities to escape this dull and cramped vessel, just to drive. It would not matter if he was racing or not, cruising would prove to be more relaxing at time.

The chatter dimmed when he walked in, and some of the drones, the more injured ones, looked at him, expectantly waiting for a status on their condition and confirmation if they would make it or not. Knockout was never good at bedside manner, that had been Breakdown's job to lie to the patients. If they were going to die, the doctor told them the truth, and extended a courtesy by asking if they had any last wishes. Drones had proved themselves interestingly sentient in this manner. In normal circumstances he would never have given a thought about drones having ideas and feelings and opinions. This charity he gave provided him with a new look towards drones and, if they were interesting enough, logged it personally.

.:_Log 253_

_:Another patient with a death wish… Two today, actually. The first from 76-4AV. He asked for me to see three specific others for the last time. Probably his friends. I left them alone to talk… Primus, sometimes I think I might be turning into an Autobot, having sympathies and all that._

_:The second was… far more interesting. I don't think I'll forget him. He said his code was VAL-T1N, but insisted I call him Valentino. Some human name, I think, but I love the way it sounds. He wanted to admit something to me but was too scared to talk. He shook so badly I heard his frame clanking. Poor thing. I think it was the fact that others were around that made him jittery. I leaned in so he could tell me personally what he wanted to say. First he asked if I believed that drones could love. After all that I had witnessed in their social conduct thus far I answered truthfully: Yes._

_:He told me he loved me._

_:And he died._

_:I've had to leave this screen six times already just to cry over that. Why would this affect me so much? It's not like I loved him in return! Perhaps it was the drama of the moment. I've watched enough romantics to make me cry over things like this. But… It was his dying wish! Primus, this was a drone I never noticed, never talked to, and… Maybe he was always around me. I don't know. Maybe he watched from a distance, knowing I'd never be with a drone. With him._

_:Seventh time I've left the console. He makes me think of this frequent visitor I get sometimes, a Vehicon by the name ST-3V3, which of course translates his nick-designation to "Steve." His friends push him into my med bay and insist he get his scratches buffed off. Always has a scratch and he admits to me it's from Starscream, each and every time. Is he an admirer of Starscream's just as Valentino was to me? And stays by his side?_

_:Eighth time. I think I'm done for tonight. I have to put Valentino into the incine_

_:…_

_:Ninth time._

_:I have dead drones to smelt._

_:End Log 253_:.


	3. Chapter 3

So I was going to finish this for Christmas but I got caught up watching Doctor Who. (Let the feel-fest begin.) And then I spent the next few days trying to think but it's hard to play Uppercut when your cousin is blasting country music.

And then I forgot about it.

So here you go.

* * *

Chapter III

.:_Log 254_

_:A waking nightmare again… This time I was on the floor of my med bay, my digits coated in energon. Who did the creature kill this time? Or, the real question, whose dead body, of all the choices he could make, did he decide to mutilate?_

_:VAL-T1N. My poor drone. Of all the unprofessional, inconsiderate, vile, rudimentary mudflaps I've met in my lifespan! And worse, this monster lives inside of me, he made me kill him! And he wi_

_:I wonder if the amount of blood is the same within each drone… They are the same size, same builds, eat the same amount of rations. I'll do my own experiment! I hypothesize that Vehicons have more energon in them than Eradicons. Fliers are known to burn through their stock more efficiently than those on wheels. I'll let you know soon, doctor._

_:End Log 254_:.

The green imposter of Knockout smiled. Total control was such a blessing. If the doctor was right and he would be pumped out of his systems, he needed to take more of synthetic and dark energon while the doctor had no say in his actions. Perhaps later. This was only the second day.

He grabbed a hacksaw from the surgery table of instruments the medic had left. He would have used his own buzzsaw in his hand, but that would be too easy. A hacksaw was slow work, giving time to savor what gruesome pain he would inflict.

"Mind if I borrow some of your toys?" he asked the ego trapped inside. "It's a beautiful collection."

He did not spend time to find other tools to play with. The hacksaw would be fun enough. Now he just needed a target, somewhere less monitored, preferably crowded so no one would seem missing at the time, and a private area close by to maim his victim. There was also the unfortunate case that he would catch attention. He did not worry about catching the _drones'_ attention, no, they were stupid. The first one he killed even recognized him as the doctor despite obvious difference in paint. He was more worried about running into Soundwave or Megatron. If Soundwave approached, he knew they would not say anything but the spy would undoubtedly document that there might be a new presence aboard the ship. If Megatron… Just pace quickly. There would be no explanations. The only answers their Lord and Master would be able to gather if he took a quick glimpse would be either their medical officer decided to get a new paint job or he had a twin who was unregistered. Neither seemed very likely.

But stressing about the future was another personality's job. Right now he had a thirst to quench. Thirst for split energon, for screaming, for pleading, for the sound of metal shearing through metal. Just the simple thought of it made the fluids in his veins rush.

"I'll try to keep under the radar, doctor," he brokenly promised. "Just think of that possibility of Soundwave tracking me as soon as I leave the room. It'll help you calm down."

_You're a major pain in the aft._

"Love you too, Knockout."

He walked out of the room as though he was going for a leisurely walk. Immediately down the hall were a pair of drones, who slowed their pace as they watched the strange-colored mech stroll by them. Knockout could hear the animal's thoughts and practically feel the overwhelming sensation to turn back and ambush the drones.

"I've been thinking up names last night while I was mutilating your secret admirer," the green menace said with a smirk, earning him a mental kick in the processor, which did not affect him that much besides a visible twitch of his helm. "I thought 'Coldcock' might have been a good one, since it's similar to the meaning of your name, but I realized that it would mean a whole other thing to humans. Can you imagine trying to be intimidating to a bunch of gutter-minded fleshlings with a name like _Coldcock_? Then the name 'Vandal' came to mind, like 'vandalism.' Perfect since I like to vandalize and maim bodies. Yet it didn't seem right for some reason… I spent hours looking up names. You can check them; I haven't erased your data history. One name finally stood out: Uppercut. At first it doesn't sound threatening enough, but you get used to it and realize how deadly it can be. I deliver my punches from below, where you wouldn't think to look… Not to mention, I'm short. All of your good looks and you had the unfortunate side of the sizing gene."

_If you know so much about me, you know exactly why I'm short._

"Actually, that part of your history is locked up pretty tightly in your archives. What are you hiding back there, my dear?"

"Knockout!"

The raspy sound of his other ego's name being voiced made him stop in his tracks and turn to see the thin Seeker walking in his direction, arms laced behind his back and shoulders arched forward. As a medic, the form of Knockout had run a quick diagnosis and concluded that Starscream's back ached. Again. Probably from lack of exercise, as Seekers loved to roam in the open air. Being inside more than half of their time was against their nature. He was surprised that Starscream had not lost his sanity yet. Or maybe he already had and was hiding it well.

The Seeker sized up this strangely colored clone of the medical officer. "What in the name of Cybertron have you done to yourself?" Before he could answer, the jet continued with a wave of his hand, "Never mind that. Where's your report?"

"Report?"

"The body count, you oaf! Now that our military resources have plunged towards less than three hundred, we need exact numbers on how many of these senseless wastes of machinery we call drones are left!"

_Slag. I forgot to do that before smelting them!_

"Forty-seven. And a half, if you count the one that was missing his lower half." _Don't worry, I did the counting for you while you wept over your Valentino._

Another twitch of his helm, which he played off by rubbing and groaning the side of his head.

"Forty-eight drones, then," the Seeker corrected, looking nervous at knowing the reality of how many mechs they had lost. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely, Commander."

Starscream did not answer. Only nodded, looked over the striking paintjob once more, and kept walking to wherever he was going previously. Uppercut tilted his head as he watched the Seeker leave, passing a mental conversation to Knockout about how gracefully Starscream's legs were shaped. Knockout, of course, agreed, but said nothing else of the subject. The beast already knew of the silly crush he had on the thin jet's appearance. No other feelings beyond that. Or none that Knockout was willing to admit at this time.

"I bet he's tense since he knows losing those drones was his fault, and Megatron will surely beat the scrap out of him for it," Uppercut commented. "We should have gone with them. We could have saved a few. Even killed an Autobot in the process. I'd like to see what that femme's energon looks like on my digit tips… After a bit of fun with her, of course."

If Starscream had already found him, that meant another officer was bound to. Soundwave probably caught on to his conversation with the Seeker earlier. He was sure the silent mech would not care any less about an altered paintjob than his own but he might have a question as to why he changed it. He remembered Megatron already once questioning the doctor's sanity. And everyone, even the drones, knew how much the Aston Martin adored his red paint. Questions on his mental stability would certainly cycle their processor if there was even a single change in his behavior.

He just needed to be he would not get caught. Once his drive to kill was satiated, he would let Knockout back into reality and the paint would change back. As though nothing happened.

A single drone turned the hallway, coming towards him. He saw the hesitation in its pace when it realized a superior mech was within range. As they walked towards each other, Uppercut kept his pink optics glued to him. The drone kept its head lowered as he tried to pass him. Once it was within arm's range, Uppercut's hand turned into the buzzsaw and his twisted to pin the drone by the chest with it, just underneath the spark chamber. The drone cried out in surprise, pain, and fear, not daring to try to push off the doctor's arm as he knew how much he hated to be touched.

Uppercut retreated the saw. The Eradicon slid down onto the floor, bending over to try and protect his chest cavity from any more attacks. It was confused. Why did the doctor strike so?

"On your pedes," Uppercut growled, giving the drone a good kick in the leg. The purple mech curled up even more. "I said, on your pedes, soldier! That's an order!" The injured soldier stood up, using the wall to lean on while covering the slash on his chassis. "That's better. Designation?"

"0RA-DY."

Uppercut slapped him, leaving a trace of four thin, gray lines on the drone's mask. "I know you pathetic drones have easier names. Try again."

"R-Randy…"

"Randy. Much better." He pinched behind the neck's drones, eliciting a squeak. "You're coming with me."

He was aware that the injured soldier was leaving a trail as they walked. He would clean that later. He walked him to a nearby storage room, shoved him inside, and locked the both of them in the small room. The only light they had were the luminescence of the energon cubes. The drone shied away, keeping his back to the stacks of cubes.

"W-Who are you?" he said. In his mind he believed this was their ship's doctor but the colors were all wrong.

"Will it matter?" Uppercut grinned, taking out the hacksaw.

Randy moved back, toppling the piles of energon down to the ground as he tried to back away. Uppercut moved through the cubes. There was nowhere for this poor soul to go. He would have to accept his fate eventually. The drone maneuvered around to get to the door, all the while throwing the cubes in the doctor's direction. Before he realized the keypad's passcode had changed, Uppercut had dug two claws into the back of his neck. Randy froze in place, fearing that a single move could slice an important vein in his throat.

"Away from the door, there's a good drone…" the green maniac cooed. Randy obeyed, stepping backwards until Uppercut moved his hand and circled around to face him.

"Who are you?" the drone asked again.

"I'll tell you before you die. Because I know by now you're broadcasting to the other drones to come help you but also warning them that this psychopath is a potential killer. They're going to gather around that door, waiting. But let me tell you something, Randy, they won't be at the door for you. They won't be there to save you. If you're announcing that a murder is in the same room as you, they know already that you're a dead mech. They're going to come here only to arrest me." He scratched a claw down the middle of the drone's face and stopped at the rectangular opening. "I'll let you know something now: They're not going to make it out alive." He jabbed his digit through to the knuckle, making the drone momentarily gag from the intrusion. "If they so much as point their guns at me, I'll do to them as I'm going to do to you. But you, dear Eradicon, get the enjoyment of a slow death."

It was in a drone's programming not to attack a superior officer, and that they were to obey orders without question. Randy was stuck. The green menace was in his way and he dared not touch him, especially with his digit scraping the vocalizer inside. Uppercut hooked his finger, causing another groan, and pulled the Eradicon forward to him. He brought out the hacksaw and worked it against the shoulder.

As a flier drone, his wings were placed differently from a Seeker's, and Uppercut touched that point with the sharp tool. The screeching sound of his own plating being forcibly cut was terrifying, and the pain that followed was even more excruciating. It was a continuous sharp ache that moved to the rhythm of the doctor's movements. The servo that was not being cut went up to try and pull off Uppercut's and the doctor responded by curling his digit even more and giving a good tug, slicing a small wire in the process. Randy got the hint that if he disobeyed again, his lower faceplate would get torn off.

The drone cried static as his left servo finally fell off his frame, hitting the floor with a clank. A large fuel line in his sliced shoulder poured energon and he started to feel dizzy from loss.

"Don't pass out on me yet, Randy," Uppercut cooed, pink optics brightening with the scent of spilt energon and vital fluids.

The Eradicon only gave out a low moan, vocalizer shorting out from screaming. Uppercut released the hold he had in the drone's "mouth" and pushed him back to the floor. The purple mech stayed there, too weak to function. A small trail of energon left the rectangular opening of his faceplate.

"Let's see… I've already scrapped a Vehicon and he had plenty of energon in him that he lasted for minutes. Maybe his fighting spirit was stronger, or maybe his fuel capacity was higher," the doctor hypothesized. "And here you are, ready to offline when I only cut off a servo. Either you missed your daily ration, or the Eradicon capacity is lower than a Vehicon's. I wouldn't be surprised; you jets are designed to burn fuels efficiently… But you're a drone. All drones are the same."

He leaned over, a pede on the drone's abdomen and resting an arm on his knee. He traced the tip of the hacksaw in circles on the drone's chassis where his spark would be. "Did you skip breakfast?"

"W-Wha…?"

"Your _ration_, drone. Did you take it this morning?"

"Yes…"

"If that's the case, your capacity is lower." He grinned. "Let's see what it looks like all over the floor."

"No… Please! Please, doc… Ah!"

"Ah-ah-ah. You stay there." He tossed the saw aside and rubbed his digits together. "This is a hands-on experience."

The drone's visor brightened as he grasped at what the green mech was going to do. He was going to tear him apart with his bare servos! With his single arm he tried to scoot backwards, only for the doctor to grab his leg and pull him back down.

"That won't get you anywhere." _Stupid drone._

He traced from the collar down to the protruding point in the Eradicon's chassis. He could feel the quick pulse in his spark that pumped energon faster and faster, some of it pumping out of his shoulder. He looked into the Eradicon's visor, only sensing the fear behind it.

"If you think about it, I'm doing you a favor," he said, making a dent as he poked a sharp digit through. "You're a drone. You were built to serve. Nothing more, nothing less. But I've seen how you all have grown sentient over the years. You started getting ideas and emotions. Have you yet realized the purpose of your existence was for a future you would not live to see?" He prodded at the dent, turning it into a broken seam and sticking a hand through. Randy groaned more in anticipation of pain rather than actual pain. "And what if we win? What would happen to you all? Would Megatron really give you citizenship on Cybertron?" Randy cried out as Uppercut now fit two hands into his chassis and pulled the metal apart, revealing the small spark that kept him alive. The doctor sighed as he marveled at it for a moment. "Or will you live out the rest of your existence as his slaves?"

He grabbed the spark, feeling a rush of energy going up his servo. The beating lifeforce of the drone was trying to initiate a defense, attempting to short-circuit his servo. But it was so small that all it did was send wave after wave of static into Uppercut's body, almost giving him an erotic feeling. He groaned under it as he looked at the drone below him. Its visor was already dimming and he made no sound other than a metallic hum.

"You had it easy, Randy."

He crushed the spark. The glass shattered in his palm, leaving cuts, and the last bit of energy was snuffed out. The energon lines were pumping slower and slower as residual electricity kept the drone alive for a bit longer. Uppercut watched the process. The lifeless helm leaned back. Cavities collapsed for they were no longer going to be of use. And small spurts of energon were pouring from his open chassis and shoulder.

_For a moment I thought I felt a bit of pity from you, Uppercut. _Knockout was back.

"Missed you, doctor. Did you enjoy the show?" He swiped a digit from the puddle beside the drone's arm.

_Not really. I'd rather dissect an already dead drone than suffer its screaming._

"A live subject is more interesting though. You get to see activity from its insides." He tasted the blood. Bitter-sweet. Still a hint of life in it. "Do you believe there's an afterlife for drones?"

_Never really thought about it. Why should I now?_

"I think there was once a human serial killer who prayed over his victims right before he murdered them. To do them one last favor and bring them safely into the afterlife." He chuckled. "Or he believed they would come back to haunt him, so he forced their spirits along."

_Humans are so full of slag and superstition._

"So you don't believe?" An optic ridge raised in interest.

_I never said I didn't. I just never thought about it._

There was a knock at the door. The cavalry had finally arrived, demanding whoever was inside to come out now. Uppercut smirked.

"How many drones are on the other side? I want to guess three, four at most…"

Knockout knew this much: When Uppercut was finally finished, the cleaning drones would have their work cut out for them.

xXx

One thing about serial killers is that they get pretty philosophical.


End file.
